Thin Blue Lines
by Coconut Girl
Summary: You'd think after fighting in a war and finally finding each other, there would be a happily ever after for Ron and Hermione. Endings are never that simple, and life is rarely that fair.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey all! Sorry, I know this is really annoying. The fic itself isn't changing**, **just the way it's written. I wasn't happy with how it was turning out. This story just holds too much meaning for me for it to stay as it was in its original form.**

Chapter 1

I sit here holed up in my bathroom staring anxiously at a piece of plastic to give me answers. It's not what one might think. This isn't the first time I've been in this position. I can't even count the number of times I've taken one of these bloody things. I stopped keeping track somewhere around fifteen.

I've alternated between magical and Muggle tests thinking that one above the other would give me the result I desperately want. I'll admit, for the brightest witch of my age, my logic when it comes to this is rather… interesting. My torture of choice this time is a Muggle test.

I take a deep breath, and put the tester back on the counter. Standing, I shake the tension from hands, and try unsuccessfully to pace in the confined space.

As I glance over at the little window on the test for the telltale blue line, I find myself praying against all reason and experience. I hope for two blue lines instead of the lonely solitary one I've grown accustomed to.

I did get that result once. Oddly enough, it was my very first test. I was so ecstatic, I bounded around the flat throwing myself into Ron's arms. We'd only been trying for a couple months, and it seemed almost too good to be true.

You know what they say though. When something seems too good to be true, that's probably because it is. Four days later, I had some pretty severe cramping, and my period started out of nowhere.

When I spoke to my Healer, she said she couldn't say for sure but was fairly certain I had miscarried based on my description of the pain. She ran a test and confirmed that I was definitely not pregnant. We also did more tests, and found that I was still suffering slightly from the remnants of curses I took during the final battle. Nothing that would have really been apparent or stood out, but were still causing problems with my cycle. She said they would eventually work their way out of my system.

I went home after that, and just sat on my couch. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just sat there and stared at the wall much like I'm doing now. That was the day my battle began. My mind and my body decided to wage an all out war with one another.

I was so angry with my body for flushing out something that was so dear to me. But my body fought back. It's been a full two years, and I've never seen those two thin blue lines again. I sit here now and briefly wonder how I'll react this time to the inevitable single thin blue line.

My reactions have honestly run the emotional gamut. I've curled up on the cold bathroom tiles, and cried myself into a stupor. I've screamed, and thrown shampoo bottles. I've even laughed, completely bitter with my cervix for being so useless. The worst is when I simply resign myself to the fact that I've failed once again, and walk away.

Ron was wonderful at the beginning. He was the picture of loving support. But let's face it, we're talking about a man that comes from a family of breeders. The Weasleys are known for their virility like the Malfoys are known for being haughty pricks. The longer we kept trying, the more defeated and emasculated he'd act.

It's ridiculous really. I've tried to explain to him several times that this is about my womb's volatile nature, and not his inability to step up and be a man.

He says it makes no difference to him; that he'll love me regardless of whether we can have children or not. I know I should believe him, but he's a Weasley like I said. It's a core part of his nature and upbringing to procreate and have a large family. He's never pressured me, or made me feel to blame, but he's just so quiet and withdrawn now. I feel like it's just a matter of time before this rips us apart if it hasn't already.

These thoughts have rambled through my mind in the last thirty seconds while waiting. Waiting for an additional little blue line to change my life forever.

I don't want to raise my hopes up too much, because I know what the result will in all likelihood be. Deep down though, there is this small voice that whispers, _'Maybe this time.'_

Closing my eyes, I reach over and fumble for the small tester. Holding it in front of me, I try to gather my courage to look. Do I really want to open my eyes? In this moment, I can imagine I have something special growing inside me. I can pretend my world is going to change. I revel in the uncertainty. I love this fantasy, but I know it can't last.

I take a deep breath, and open my eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 2

As I stare down at the tester in my trembling hands, it's as if every horrible memory from the moment I started this exhausting trek flashes before me.

My mind's eye quickly latches onto my most recent experience though - a nonevent from four weeks ago that hasn't left me alone since - and replays the scene in excruciating detail.

----------

_I am sitting in a high backed chair that is offering little to no support; what I believe is a viciously stiff pillow is digging sharply into my back; and my right arm is growing numb and tingly._

_This physical discomfort is nothing though when compared to the emotional turmoil I'm suffering through. I haven't felt this useless, damaged, and overwhelmingly spiteful in ages._

_For all intents and purposes, Ron and I are fulfilling our familial obligation of visiting the proud new parents under the guise of being a doting auntie and uncle. In truth, Ron has pulled me along to Fred and Angelina's so that I may be tortured by the sight of their absolutely perfect family. I can't help feeling a little resentful toward him for subjecting me to this, but I do understand the necessity of keeping up appearances._

_At the moment, I am sitting on Fred and Angelina's couch cradling one of their newborn twins in my arms. I'm caught in a horrid kind of trance, captivated by her gurgles and whimpers._

_When I used to look at babies, I'd feel an intense need to hold and coddle them - a subtle voice telling me that I was the only one who could quiet their cries, and sooth away their discomfort. Now I'm just counting down the seconds until Fred or Angelina take her back, relieving me of the unbelievable pressure bearing down. She's gorgeous but every time I look into her little face, I feel a sickening bitterness snaking its way around my insides._

_When I finally glance up, I find Ron watching me. He used to get this really goofy, far off look on his face whenever I'd hold someone else's child. That look, however, is not the expression currently playing across his features. Now, he just looks pained and anxious. He's worried I might suddenly do something drastic like volley the infant into the fireplace or some such nonsense. I can't stand that look because it reminds me of how well he used to know me, so I focus on Angelina instead._

"_So tell me again how you came up with their names?" I find myself asking._

_And to my shame, I tune her and her happy chatter out almost as soon as she opens her mouth to begin the oh so epic tale once again._

_I'm a bad person. I must be to feel so resentful toward this woman._

_I look back down at little Charlotte now asleep in my arms, and all I can think of is how completely unfair it is. How can it be right for this woman to have two perfectly healthy babies, and I can't even manage to have one? I know it's dreadful that I feel this way, but I can't and I won't take it back. Yes, it's irrational. Yes, it's caddy but it's how I feel._

_Suddenly, Fred comes bounding in from the backyard with Felix, their two year-old son, on his hip._

'_Oh, that's right!' I think mirthlessly to myself. 'They have three beautiful children, not two.'_

_I need to get out of here. This is not who I am. I'm not an embittered, resentful, vicious, old bint._

_I look to Ron, and I can see as plain as day he knows exactly what's running through my head._

"_Well, we really…" Ron starts to say as he stands but before he can finish, Fred cuts him off._

"_Look at her Ron. Hermione is absolutely amazing with Charlotte. Have you held Ella yet, Hermione?"_

_Sweet Fred. Sweet clueless Fred. He is, oddly enough, an absolutely fantastic father. I was actually a little worried when I found out he was going to be a dad. I mean here is a man whose greatest pleasure in life is to blow things up, and dye people's hair green. And yet, he turned out to be one of the most loving fathers I know. For the first five months after Felix finally started talking, the boy actually referred to Fred as 'Mama'. Drove Angelina nuts._

"_Yes, I have Fred. Thank you. I actually got to feed her." I hear myself answer in a tight, even voice._

"_You are going to be such a fantastic mother someday, Hermione. You're just such a natural. What's going on with that anyway? You two have been together forever. Aren't you up for the task, Ickle Ronniekins?" Fred teases, elbowing Ron's arm roughly._

_Ron flushes a deep crimson, whether from embarrassment, mortification, or anger, I don't know. I suspect it's a combination of all three. I then glance down at his hands, which have always been his tell, and I know he's on the verge of knocking Fred's block off from the white knuckled, clenched fists locked firmly at his sides. Lucky for both, Fred is still holding Felix._

_Fred just doesn't realize how cutting and hurtful his words are. I know it was unintentional, but they really hit deeply all the same. He has no idea. None of the Weasleys do save Molly, Ginny, and possibly Arthur who has never mentioned a word of it to me. I find it hard to believe though that Molly wouldn't have told him something of it._

_I stand quickly, and place Charlotte into her mother's outstretched arms._

"_Well, unfortunately we have to get going." I announce in the hopes of avoiding a blow up from Ron. "I have a meeting at two, and Ron here needs to get back to the Ministry."_

_We say our goodbyes at the door, and make our way out into the street. I glance back one more time to the happy smiling family, and a wave of guilt instantly washes over me. I **am** a bad person. I can't believe I was thinking such dark thoughts about two people I love so dearly… about my family. I outright hated them for something that was totally beyond their control._

_I'm brought back to myself when I feel Ron's hand slipping into mine, and I focus my eyes forward. As we continue down the street, I don't say a word and I don't dare meet his searching gaze. Instead, I allow a deafening silence to reign over us. I know he's trying to find the words that will erase how I'm feeling. Eventually, he just sighs and squeezes my hand tightly, and without knowing it, he's given me exactly what I need._

----------

Slowly, my eyes refocus outside of myself onto the small window encased in plastic. Tears are blurring my vision, and a tight knot of emotion is beginning to choke me. This memory has taken on a whole new meaning.

One driving thought invades my mind drowning out all others. _'How in Merlin's name am I going to break this to Ron?'_


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Chapter 3_  
_

_THE MAN'S POINT OF VIEW  
_

What a bloody awful day. What a bloody awful week. Hell, since I'm being completely honest with myself it's been a bloody awful year.

I'm trudging my way home from yet another excruciating day at the Ministry. I'm exhausted and cranky beyond words, and yet I find myself walking instead of apparating or flooing straight there.

Although I know why, I can barely bring myself to own up to the feelings. I'm trying to put off the inevitable. Trying to avoid yet another evening spent in tense silence, or worse, nasty bickering.

Our rows used to be fun. Yeah, I'm fully willing to admit that I enjoyed getting her all fired up. She really was a sight, all puffed up and indignant. I find myself chuckling at one memory in particular. She was brandishing a pan and chasing me around the kitchen because I was fool enough to tease her about her questionable cooking skills.

I feel the smile slip from my face when I think about what fills our spats as well as the silences now. I hate more than anything that the thought has even crossed my mind, but I just don't have it in me to deal with her tonight. I'm just too tired. Maybe I should just drop into Harry and Gin's, and see if he's up for a pint at the 3Bs.

_ 'No, I can't.' _ I admonish myself.

Hermione's probably waiting for me, and as much as I can't stand the life we're living, I still love her to bits.

It just seems like she's gets more and more obsessed with the whole baby thing every day if that's possible. I want one too. Merlin, do I want one, but watching her turn into this… this… I don't know. I don't want to put a name to it. My insides feel like they're being crushed to a pulp. I just can't stomach what we are… what we've become.

We can't seem to have a bloody conversation without it turning into her ranting about how she's damaged. About how I'm saddled with her, and I deserve better. And then I almost always say something stupid, and she flies off the handle.

Before I even have time to realize where I am, I find myself standing at the entrance to our building. I feel a little lost. I thought we lived further away than this. I thought I'd have more time to unwind... to prepare.

_ 'Another lovely evening with the Weasleys.'_ I think gloomily.

Heaving out a sigh, I try to shake off my mood. One of us has to stay positive, and expecting that of her lately has been nearly impossible. I start the walk up the two flights of stairs to our flat. Once inside, I am instantly met with her sobs echoing from the bathroom.

_'Shite. I knew I should have gone to the pub.'  
_

Before I even have time to finish the thought, I'm kicking myself mentally for being such an insensitive git.

"Hermione… Love…" I call to her, but she doesn't respond.

_'Not again. Please, not again.' _I plead with the Gods.

I drop my satchel and my cloak at the door, and walk directly to the loo. Finding the door closed, I rap on it gently.

"Hermione love, can I come in?" I ask softly.

Her crying quiets but she still doesn't answer me. This is getting ridiculous. I refuse to keep living like this.

Truly frustrated, I talk at the door more forcefully. "I'm coming in."

Trying the handle, I find it unlocked. I peer inside and spot her on the floor leaned up against the tub clutching something tightly in her left hand. When I look closer, I realize it's one of those bloody Muggle tests. I move to her cautiously and as I get closer, her uncontrollable sobs start up again.

"Oh, love." I whisper to her as I crouch down and pull her into my arms.

She feebly tries to push me away, so I lean back to take her in. She starts talking, or rambling rather, but she's made herself so upset that she can't even get enough breath in to form a coherent sentence. As her body trembles madly, she starts motioning to the Muggle test in her hand.

"I know love. You have to stop doing this to yourself."

She just shakes her head at me, and tries to show me the stupid thing again.

Our heads shake in unison… mine in confusion… hers in frustration.

"I don't understand, love." I finally offer softly.

She grabs me in a fierce hug, and starts to cry wildly into my shoulder. I just hold her. There's nothing else I can do until she calms down.

Finally catching her breath, she pulls away and begins to babble again.

_'Okay,' _I think to myself, _'she's finally lost it.'  
_

"Slow down, Hermione. I don't understand a word you're saying."

The last thing I want to do is get frustrated with her, but she's really starting to scare me.

"Blue lines…" she says. "Two blue lines."

What in Merlin's name is she talking about?

Obviously, she's either thoroughly entertained by the scrunched up look on my face or pissed beyond belief at my inability to catch her meaning because she starts to laugh hysterically.

"Ron, there are two blue lines." She's finally able to manage through her waning laughter as she shows me the test again.

"Yes? And?"

"Two thin blue lines, Ronald!" she emphasizes her words again and waves the white stick in my face.

I nod my head trying to feign understanding then start to shake it because I still don't get what she's telling me. None of this makes any sense.

"That means there's a baby." She huffs.

I don't remember anything after that. Everything went white then black.

The next thing I know, I'm on my back and I can feel wetness on my face. I force my eyes open to find Hermione hovering over me laughing and crying and clutching the plastic stick.

"Did she just say the word… baby?"

**A/N: Many thanks to my fabulous beta, Raye, for her unwavering friendship and support, and her wonderful beta-ing skills.**

**  
**  
AUTUMNLOVER: Thank you so much :-)

WeasleyGirl-ca: Thank you for your wonderful words. It's a very hard situation to be in for everyone involved

sballLuvr5: Thank you :-)

BuckNC: Thank you. Yes, there were two lines, but the stories not over yet

mclaughlin: yeah... as I mentioned to you before, I was really unhappy with it.

charma10: thanks ;-

soccergirl142005: It's a quiet tragedy that several women suffer through on a regular basis unfortunately. Thank you for your wonderful words.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. And OMG, July is almost here!!!

Chapter 4

As I stare at the fire, I can feel the heat of it warming my face and a fleeting thought passes through my mind that perhaps I'm sitting too close. I'm incapable of giving this observation any more consideration, however, as my mind has chosen instead to wander over the past week.

Many women when they find out they're pregnant go out and purchase a wide variety of silly, sentimental baby things as a means of celebrating… of savouring. I always thought that I'd be above that kind of behaviour, but I'm reluctant to admit that I'm no different. I fell victim to the draw… the call. Unlike most women though, I did not get a stuffed animal, or a toy, or even a soother. What did I, Hermione Granger-Weasley, purchase? A book. Shocking really!

I couldn't help myself. If there was something my child was going to have and need, it would be a book. Namely the one my parents used to read to me when I was little called "Bedtime for Frances". My father still loves to tell me how at three I had the entire thing memorized. And that if he or Mum tried to change even one word, I'd point my little index finger at them and give them a stern, clenched look. I can only imagine what kind of strength it must have taken for them not to burst out laughing. I was a stickler for doing things the proper way, even then.

A spark from the fire draws me back to the present and I breath in sharply through my nose, clearing out the mental fog that had surrounded me. Taking it as a plea to be fed, I crumple up the piece of parchment in my hand and toss it into the dwindling flames only to see them dance merrily, consuming the new fodder. I can't help but to feel both hatred and envy for the fire's ability to survive and thrive through the destruction of anything that lies in its path.

It's truly amazing how much can happen in the course of a day… less than twenty four hours really. A week ago, I was pregnant…. Last night even… Now, I get those goddamned bloody awful cramps, and I'm not. I'm bleeding like a stuck pig.

What's worse is that Ron's not here. He left early this morning for a bloody International Magical Cooperation Conference in Boston. It was still dark when he kissed me lightly, and whispered his goodbye. I hate bloody Americans. All right I don't hate them, I'm just really upset with them right now for taking my only source of comfort.

When I woke up this morning to blood all I could do was lie there and stare at the ceiling. There was blood on the sheets, blood on the duvet. Blood had even soaked through to the mattress.

I just lay there as the tears streamed from my eyes.

I only ventured out of the flat once, and that was to get a very large bottle of red wine. I thought 'What the hell! I'm the only one I'm hurting!' I didn't even bother to go to my healer. What was the point? It was painfully obvious that I'd lost another one. I don't need her to tell me that.

What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with my body that it just keeps rejecting life?

I felt truly sorry for Ron when he flooed to touch base earlier tonight. The sweet man floos at least three times a day when he's away whether I'm home or not. When he saw the mess that I was, he didn't even need to ask.

Now I sit here dumbly watching the flames dancing in the grate as they first lick then devour each page I sacrifice. Yes… I burned a book. I burned the book. I see my childhood memories being enveloped in black.

I can feel the wetness on my face as the tears continue to burn a path down my cheeks, but I really can't be bothered to care. And this is how Ron finds me - in a proverbial puddle on the floor in front of the fireplace with the half emptied wine bottle clutched in my right hand.

In an absolute rage, he grabs it from me and hurls it into the grate.

"Hey, someone could step on that and hurt themselves." I hear myself saying.

For some reason, I find this absolutely hysterical, and I start to giggle at my own wit.

"It's not bloody funny, Hermione!" He screams desperately.

But my laughter has already turned into wracking sobs. He drops to his knees, and wraps his arms around me. Kissing my temple, he starts to rock me gently.

"I lost… What's wrong with me?" I gasp out.

"Nothing, love. Absolutely nothing."

Still on my knees, I curl into a ball forcing him to bend with me, shaking violently with the force of my pain.

After a minute, or maybe an hour, I hear him clear his throat. "Listen love, I know you don't want to hear this right now, but…"

I still my crying to listen. His is the only voice that has been able to bring me any kind of reason or peace throughout this nightmare.

"…but the fact that you were able to get pregnant now is a good sign, isn't it? It's a bloody fantastic sign, yeah? It means your body is moving in the right direction."

Try as he might, Ron can't keep the waver from his voice. He lost his child today as well.

I sit up, and look at him. "But what if it was just a fluke?"

"I refuse to believe that." He answers me evenly.

I consider him for a moment. I watch the warmth of the fire dance across his steady, loving features. His freckles and shining blue eyes jump out at me, and I'm instantly reminded of the steadfast, stubborn little boy I fell in love with.

"Please don't leave me." I plead, the tears breaking through again.

"Nowhere else I would ever want to be." he answers me quietly, and then pulls me easily into him.

**A/N: My goodness, I'm so sorry for the long delay between updates. I'll be better from now on.**

cellogirl: Sorry for the wait. Thank you so much :)

kaededainecalwyn: Sorry for this chapter, but sometimes bad things happen.

WeasleyGirl-ca: Thank you. Yeah, there are still a few bumps ahead.

sballLuvr5: Um... yeah, sorry. Life is very unfair.

stoneofpurity: No swelling insides on this one.

BuckNc: I'll try on the longer chapters, but they're quite challenging when written in first person. I'll try all the same :)


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 5

I am about to burst with rage. I have never felt such an unbelievable rush of anger, mortification, and loathing in my entire life.

I'm sitting here at Remus and Tonks' dinner table staring daggers into one of the craziest Aurors the Ministry has to offer, and I, Hermione Granger-Weasley, am making him nervous. He is trying to win this staring contest of ours, but I can see the uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

If I were not so incredibly outraged by his last comments, I might be able to find the humour in the fact that Mad Eye Moody is actually afraid of me. Little me. But that's the point, isn't it? My indignation at his rudeness and insensitivity isn't small. And what's more, I know I'm not being overly sensitive about it, because Ron is staring at him completely gobsmacked.

The bastard knows we've been trying. Not that we've announced it or anything, but he'd be daft not to expect it. He knows I'm not fully healed from the final battle. He was there, for Merlin's sake. But what does he do when the topic of Remus and Tonks' newborn baby girl comes up?

In front of everyone, the prick asks me… not Ron and me… He asks me. "Why haven't you popped one out yet, Granger? Where are all the frizzy haired redheads? Poor Ron here must be in a right horrible state. You should take some time out of your busy schedule." Then he chuckles as if it were actually a funny little joke.

"Sometimes, it's not that simple, Moody." I force out through gritted teeth.

"What's not simple? He shags you rotten, and then nine months later you pop out a wee bouncing Weasley."

"As I said, it's not…"

"Oh, but it is Granger. You just have to let him have a go in the first place."

What could I possibly say to that? My anger had left me without words. Any answer I could give at that point would either be incredibly crude or extremely volatile.

And that's how we find ourselves now in this precarious test of wills. Me glaring at him with such fierce hatred it could melt steel, and him meeting my stare, trying his damnedest to conceal the uneasiness invading his being.

I must be truly terrifying because everyone else at the table is absolutely stiff in their silence. Either that, or they think he's as much of an arsehole as I do. Finally, he cracks a grin and winks at me before returning to his plate. Normally, this would have made me smile and laugh at his sheer madness, but his words cut deeply… far deeper than he could possibly know. I feel judged, and belittled… Like I'm less of a woman somehow. Like, once again, I've let Ron down.

Suddenly, I hear Ron's voice slice through the silence. "What's the rush? We're still young. We have a lot we both want to do. And besides, there's still fun to be had," he answers, his voice deceivingly light, accompanied as it is with his lopsided grin.

I stare at him dumbfounded, my mouth hanging open slightly. I know that he's only trying to diffuse the situation. That he's trying to take the pressure and focus off me and return a light mood to the dinner. The only problem is that behind that protective edge, there's an ounce of truth. I know Ron. I know him better than anyone, and I could almost hear the relief in his voice at being able to say those words. Somewhere in the back of his tone there was a hint that, perhaps, he didn't want to be a father yet.

That harsh realization cuts like a knife, and only leads me down a dreadful path of more painful discoveries. If he's uncertain as to whether he wants to be a father, could this also be a sign that he's questioning us… our future together? We are definitely not the same people we were when we left school or even when the war ended. It's not a far stretch to think we've grown that far apart.

Ron's tactic is very effective. Everyone sighs in relief and resumes the boisterous conversation from before. I, however, drive my eyes down to my food, refusing to be a part of their jovial babbling. Yes, it's childish but I just don't feel like pretending that I'm not hurt by Moody's comments or Ron's words.

As soon as the table's focus is firmly back on exuberant dinner chatter, Ron turns to me, takes my hand, and whispers. "All right there, love?"

I stiffen, and offer him a tight-lipped, stern "I'm fine."

Sensing my irritation, he shifts in his chair a little and returns to his dinner, not wanting to start anything with me in front of our friends.

I battle with myself. If I really look inside I know I don't give two shits about Moody's asinine comment. He was just being his normal arsehole self. Lately it seems I've grown accustomed to being offended and angered over every little thing. I fly off the handle at every comment... every slighting word. It's almost like an opportunity to vent some of my pent up frustration. It gives me a target... something or someone to rage against. Logically, I know I should just take a deep breath and let it go, and so that's what I try to do for the rest of dinner. But it is Ron's words... his tone that keeps clawing at me, that won't give me a moment's peace.

As dinner comes to an end, I've gone from feeling angry to just being tired. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to be constantly living my life with the hope or expectation or goddamn pressure that, one day, I'll be able to get pregnant and bloody stay that way. This fucking trek has become all-consuming and it's exhausting. A part of me… a very large part, wants nothing more than to just give up and get on with my life. Before this stupid fucking crusade, I had goals that I wanted to achieve. I had dreams of being successful. Where the hell did they all go? Maybe Ron has the right idea. Maybe just letting go is the only way to preserve my sanity.

The sound of chairs scraping against the floor rouse me to the fact that dinner is over and everyone is moving off to the library for a drink.

Ron leans into me, and murmurs. "Do you want something? Maybe a glass of wine?"

He's trying to make up for his comment. He knows full well I wasn't impressed.

Standing slowly, I sigh and manage a quiet "No, thank you." There's no vexation in my tone, nor any ice-cold indignation pouring through. Even to my own ears, I sound defeated.

As he moves off toward the library without me, I call to him, "Ron."

He turns and looks at me hopefully. I know he's not going to like what I'm about to say, but I'm not feeling particularly sociable at the moment. "I'm tired. I'm just going to floo home."

"That's fine. I'll get our cloaks…" He begins to head toward the front hall, eager to do something to please me.

"No. No. You stay. Enjoy yourself. Catch up with everyone. I… I'm tired and I want to be at home. Besides, I wouldn't mind some alone time."

A shadow of dejection passes over his face, and he seems to withdraw slightly. It reminds me of how, lately, we've been growing apart… Well, in truth how I've been distancing myself and how he's been silently grieving over the fact. This need of mine is just another subtle push away.

"Are you sure? I mean I don't mind leaving now. I'm pretty knackered. It might be nice to curl up and…"

"No," I cut him off firmly. "You stay, even if it's just for an hour or so. I'll go home and get some things done. And when you get back we can go to bed and cuddle."

He seems to brighten at the last part. "All right, but I'll only be an hour at the most."

He walks me to the fireplace, presses a light kiss to my brow, and then I'm off.

In the solace of my own living room, I feel the weight and strain of keeping up appearances slide off me. As I look around at the life we've built, I realize that things have to change. I need to change because I refuse to continue this downward spiral. Where to start is the question.

**A/N: Just another step in a long story.**

cellogirl: Thank you for hanging in there with me. The updates should be coming faster now.

sballLuvr5: Thank you. Life really does swing up and down.

stoneofpurity: Thanks sop. It was a hard one to put up.

WEASLEYxISxMYxKING: Thank you so much. I will be updating more frequently, I promise. Life just got in the way.

Wierdgirl5834: Thank you. She does know that but look at who she's married to. Although Ron's not pressuring her, she can't help but feel the weight bearing down on her.

charma10: Life has a funny way of cropping up and making it impossible. I'll be able to update more now though. The have a bumpy road ahead.

connieewing: It's a very sad truth that many couples suffer through in silence. Thank you for the thought of the PM. It meant a great deal.


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